Forget Me Not
by Divagirl2
Summary: His life before the facility is a blank, but he had long ago learned not to dwell on the past. Pain, torture, and experimentation was his life now. All he's known and probably all he ever will know. After managing to escape, he is thrust into a new world, one that is both familiar yet completely foreign to pieces of his old life return, will he remember before it's too late?


It was the electrocution that woke him up.

Well, not _electrocution_ per say. The jolt of electricity that he felt was brief, more of an electrical shock than anything- weak enough as to not cause him any real damage but strong enough as to violently jolt him out of his deep slumber. He sat up from his small cot before his sleep-addled mind had any time to catch up, instantly regretting it as his chest throbbed painfully. Wincing, he wrapped an arm around his midsection, the other coming up to groggily rub at his eyes as he leant against the cool concrete wall beside his "bed".

He leaned his head back, staring blankly up at the grey concrete ceiling as the grogginess slowly seeped out of his mind and his thoughts came into focus. Unconsciously, he removed his arm from his midsection as the pain ebbed away and brought it up to fiddle with the thick bulky metal collar around his neck, where he knew the shock had emitted from. His gaze drifted to the locked steel door across the small space of his cell.

_They should be here any minute now... _he sighed quietly, _Great._

He removed his hand from his collar and used both arms to gingerly lift up his thin cotton shirt. Healing bruises, a disgusting greenish-yellow color, stood out starkly against his pale skin, decorating his entire midsection, specifically the area around his ribs. He carefully poked at the bruises, hissing slightly at the pain even that gentle action brought. Training the day prior had been...rough, to say at the least. His ribs weren't broken, not anymore at least, but he knew that he'd be sore for the rest of the day as his accelerated healing took care of the rest of the damage. Typically, it'd only be a few more hours but...well, they weren't exactly ones to go easy here.

He released his grip on his shirt, causing it to limply fall back down to cover his midsection, as he heard the familiar sound of the door's electronic locks coming undone. It opened soon after with a loud creak and a woman clad in a white lab coat walked in. Her face was set in a perpetual scowl, lined with frown lines and slight wrinkles. Her hair, a dark chestnut brown highlighted with dark grey streaks, was up in a neat bun, not a single hair out of place though it looked uncomfortably tight. She looked at him with steel blue eyes that once could have been considered beautiful but were now filled with a certain hardness, matching all her other facial features. In her hands, she held a small tray.

"X-7024," she said, her voice as flat as her looks, "Nice to see you up and looking refreshed. You slept well, I hope."

The statement wasn't phrased as a question, and even if it was, he knew she didn't really care, but he replied anyway.

"Like a baby." he said. Okay, and maybe he just wanted an excuse to be a _little _cheeky. "And you, Dr. Wilson? You're looking vibrant as ever." He had made it a point to remember all of the doctor's names (or the ones that told him a name anyway) long ago, for his own sanity if nothing else. These people controlled his schedule, his daily activities, his _free time_, and he had learned a while back that there was really nothing he could do to change that. He might as well get to know the people that dictated his life, right? Or get to know their names anyway...

Though he expected it, he couldn't help but feel the slightest tinge of disappointment as the woman failed to act like he'd even spoken at all.

"Breakfast." she said shortly, placing the tray on the floor, "I'd advise you to take advantage of your first meal of the day. I'll return shortly to escort you to your testing."

He had to suppress a shiver. _Testing._ Those were the days he hated the most.

Dr. Wilson walked out of the cell, the door automatically closing behind her with a loud click as the locks went back into place. He stood up from his cot shortly after, stretching his arms out widely and rolling his neck a few times before walking the short distance across the cell to the tray and sitting cross legged in front of it. On it, in a small bowl, sat a type of porridge (or oatmeal, he didn't really care for the difference anymore) that was grey in color and judging by the lack of steam, most likely cold. A cup (plastic, they had stopped giving him glass cups long ago after the...incident) sat next to the bowl, filled halfway with lukewarm water (even after all his time here, he _still _found it ironic that they managed to keep his food cold and his drink with a semblance of warmth).

He picked up the small metal spoon that laid next to his meal and wasted no time in digging in to the food. Unsurprisingly, the taste was as bland as the looks, but he had long ago learned to get over that as he ate with vigor. It took less than a full minute for him to finish the oatmeal-porridge-whatever-slop, and another few seconds to chug down the water. It took him less than a millisecond to feel the regret that always came with finishing a meal as quickly as he had as he stared at the now empty tray longingly._ I should have eaten it more slowly, _he mentally scolded himself. Logically, he knew that was pointless. Eating a meal more slowly wouldn't make more of it appear, but he found that it was easier to trick himself into feeling he was full when doing so.

_Well, at least I have a little more time to myself._

The door unlocked and creaked open once again to reveal Dr. Wilson.

_Damn._

"X-7024." she said curtly, "Come."

Though all his instincts screamed at him to do otherwise, conditioning took over and he quickly (albeit carefully, as to prevent further damage to his still-healing ribs) stood up, back straightening as he followed the woman to his hell-hole for the next twelve hours. Despite the heart-wrenching fear he felt at where he _knew _Dr. Wilson was taking him, he made sure to keep his breathing even, chin up,and hands firmly clasped behind his back as he followed the doctor, mindful of the weapons that the guards lining the hallway pointed at him as he walked past. It was a short walk, but it felt like a million years had passed by the time they reached their destination.

He had to fight off all instincts to run as they stood in front of the large doors, Dr. Wilson going through the motions of scanning her retinas, hand print, and using the voice recognition panel to unlock them. It was only a minute before they slid open, Dr. Wilson not even having to gesture him to follow as they walked in. He was fairly sure his erratic heart was about to pound out of his chest as he caught glimpse of the giant, inexplicably human-sized tubes, remembering his own fair share of horrors in there. He then spotted what seemed to be a normal-looking treadmill, though he knew from personal experience that it was anything but. Glancing around the room, thoughts of his own traumatic experiences with all the equipment came to mind but nothing, _nothing_, compared to the gut-wrenching sick he felt when he spotted the doors to the med-bay. That was where the absolute _worse _of his experiences occurred, where the worst of his night terrors originated from.

He tensed as a hand suddenly clapped on his shoulder, "X-7024!" A jovial, undoubtedly masculine voice exclaimed, "A fine, fine day today, isn't it? Sun is shining, birds are singing...though I guess you wouldn't know anything about that, would you?" He let out a loud, boisterous laugh, as if he had just said the funniest thing in the world, "Well, I for one am having a _wonderful _day! And you, X-7024? Feeling well, I hope?"

The man looked at him with mirthful honey brown eyes. Unlike Dr. Wilson, his face was rather handsome and lined with smile lines. His dark hair, like all other personnel, was impeccable, not a hair out of place in its greased slick-back style. Despite the man's friendly disposition however, it felt as if his veins had filled with ice. He did his best to keep the fear from showing in his gaze as he stared at the man...who stared expectantly back at him. It took him a moment to realize that the man was waiting for an answer.

"I-I'm, I'm w-well, Doctor." he stuttered.

The man gripped his shoulder tighter in a friendly gesture before releasing, "Great to hear! And what did I tell you about that dreaded 'Doctor' title? Harold is fine, boy."

He nodded quickly, "Y-yes, Doctor. S-sorry, Doc-er, Harold."

Harold laughed again, loud and boisterously. He tensed even further.

"So, my boy, how's that wound of yours healing?" Harold asked, his eyes had taken a new glint in them, more calculating, callous. He wrapped an arm around his abdomen self-consciously, "I-it's fine, Doc-Harold."

The look disappeared from Harold's expression as he once again gave that all-encompassing smile, "Oh? So I suppose you're up for another training session then, eh?"

He paled at the thought.

Harold laughed again.

"Alright, boy," Harold said, clapping his hands together loudly, "I think we've wasted enough time now, don't you?"

By the time Harold's 'tests' for the day were completed, he could barely stand, let alone walk. Two guards (or grunts, more like it) dragged him back to his cell, each supporting him by holding the bottom of his armpits in a way that was very uncomfortable, but he was much too out of it to actually complain. They took no care in being gentle as they practically threw him into his cell upon arrival, his head hitting the concrete hard enough to cause a slight bout of dizziness. The door closed behind them with a loud slam, worsening his already-budding headache. With a grunt of exertion, he managed to roll onto his back, his breathing heavy and labored from pain and exhaustion as he did so. His upper arm twinged painfully and with a small gasp, he grasped it with it his good hand, doing his best to stem the bleeding.

_He fought against the restraints as Harold approached, a useless endeavor but like hell was he going to let this happen lying down._

_Harold laughed-god, he _hated _that man's laugh. "Well, well, X-7024, you certainly haven't been this rebellious in a while. Perhaps we'll try something new today."_

_His eyes widened in panic. No, not new, new was _never _good. Especially for him. He had no time to react, however, as Harold held his head down against the cool steel table, positioning it so his neck was easily accessibly and emptying a syringe filled with-something-into his bloodstream._

_"What was that?" he asked. When Harold didn't answer, he only grew even more panicked, "WHAT WAS THAT?!" he screamed._

_Harold smirked, "Oh just an experimental drug I've been working on." he replied._

_At his panicked look, Harold laughed, "Oh, relax. It's not fatal. ...Shouldn't be anyway. It's just going to help us test the limits of those fancy little healing abilities of yours among...other things."_

He_ could only stare in horror as Harold brought a scalpel closer to his arm..._

The flashback ended and he was once again back in his cell. Alone, disoriented, and bleeding. _Well whatever the hell was in that 'experimental drug' jacked up my healing, flesh wounds like this are usually healed within minutes. Though maybe that was the point._

As time passed, instead of feeling better, he only began to feel progressively worse. His arm was still bleeding, though it had slowed slightly, his body was aching, and his head-it was as if someone had filled it with cotton. He could hardly think and had to remind himself on multiple occasions where he was. Not to mention that his headache was transitioning slowly but surely into a full-out migraine.

He laid on the cold floor for hours (or maybe it was only a few minutes? He didn't know.), hoping that his own body heat would warm the ground so he could go to sleep without feeling like an iceberg, but to no avail.

He glanced at his cot, his warm-well warm_er_-cot, with a blanket, and a pillow...that was on the other side of the cell. Well, okay, maybe the 'other side' of the cell was technically like, two steps, but he honestly didn't even think he was up to even that at this point. His gaze moved to the door, as if someone would at that exact moment would just suddenly appear and help him solve his dilemma. He inwardly scoffed at the thought. _As if._

Bringing his gaze back to his cot, it only took him a moment to steel his resolve.

_Okay. I can do this..._

He positioned his arms under him and put most of his weight on the good one as he pushed himself up, slouching against the wall as he panted heavily at the action. _Man...did that drug shoot my stamina to hell too?_ An instant later, sitting up proved to be an unwise idea as a bout of nausea overcame him.

_Aw, crap._

He clamped his mouth shut and clenched his eyes closed as he breathed heavily through his nose, trying to fight down the bile that had risen up in his throat. _Oh, I really, really don't want to sleep with the smell of vomit permeating my cell tonight. Please don't throw up, please don't throw up, please don't throw up... _After about 15 minutes, his wish seemed to have been granted as the nausea vanished, leaving only an excruciating headache coupled with dizziness in its wake.

_I hate Harold. _

And he did. He really, really did. Hated him more than he's ever hated _anything _in life. Despised the man with every fiber of his being. Anticipated the day karma caught up with the SOB and he finally keeled over. Hated him almost as much...almost as much as he _feared _him. Harold was a twisted, twisted man, he knew that much. He didn't remember much of his earliest days here but from what little memories he did retain, it had involved pain, lots and lots of pain. Pain inflicted on him by none other than yours truly.

So yeah, he hated the man. Wished death on him _at least_ twice a day, preferably on the day he escaped and the whole facility exploded into flames, with Harold trapped in his office, begging, _pleading _for help. Help that he'd be damn sure Harold never got.

He found his eyelids drooping shut against his will, oblivion slowly seeping into his fuzzy mind. He welcomed it fully. _So much for sleeping in my cot..._

**_Bzzt!_**

He was jolted awake only a few hours later on the following morning. With a strangled gasp, he snapped his head up from its position of hanging limply forward on his chest, inadvertently hitting it against the wall behind him.

"Ah!" he winced, putting a hand up to rub at it. It hurt, but not nearly as bad as it did the night prior. The migraine and the throbbing that had accompanied it was gone, along with the fog that seemed to have permeated his thoughts. Checking his arm, he saw that it had healed for the most part as well, though there was a thin scab over the wound. _Weird..._ he thought, poking at it gently. He hadn't healed this slow since...ever. Shrugging it off, (not like it was life threatening anyway) he moved his examinations to his ribs, once again lifting up his shirt to check. His pale skin was flawless (save for a few freckles here and there), devoid of all bruises that had decorated it the day prior. _Well, at least there's one plus._

Bracing the wall, he slowly pushed himself into a standing position, popping his back and rolling his neck after doing so.

He walked around the small space of the cell for a few moments, stretching the stiffness out of his legs. The door opened soon after with a loud creak and he couldn't stop the disappointment from showing on his face when Dr. Wilson walked in...without breakfast.

_So it's going to be one of _those_ days today? Great._

"X-7024. Come."

Heaving a sigh, he followed, instinctively tucking his hands behind his back as he did so.

Hours later, he laid on his cot, green eyes staring blankly up at the ceiling of his cell. His breathing was even, unbothered, doing nothing to portray the excruciating pain that his body and very soul were in. As he had presumed, today had been an especially rough day.

_The heated knife drug across his lower thigh, melting his skin as well as slicing through it._

_He was helpless to do anything to stop it from his strapped position, and could only chew on his lower lip as he fought not to scream..._

As if reminding him of the agony, his right thigh tinged painfully causing him to wince. There had been no 'experimental drugs' today so the wound had healed nearly as quickly as it was inflicted, but he still felt the phantom pains. He clenched his eyes shut, not even wanting to _think _of the other physical tortures that had been done to him.

_"Hey! Let me go!"_

He sat up quickly, ignoring his body's protests as he drew his attention to the door, or rather the noises that were coming from the other side of it.

_"Shit! You little-" _He straightened further upon recognition of one of the guard's voices. It sounded almost...pained. Whoever was out there was putting up a fight. He heard the distinct sound of flesh striking flesh and a bit more scuffle before, much to his surprise, his door was swung open. He tensed, unconsciously curling himself into a corner of the cot. They couldn't be back for him so soon could they? Sure he had been resistant to Harold the day prior but he had more than learned his lesson for that. His worries were unheeded as someone was thrown into his cell, landing harshly onto the floor. He winced sympathetically, he knew from personal experience how much that hurt. The door slammed behind him almost immediately.

He stared wide-eyed at the figure, who laid on the ground for nearly a minute, moaning softly. The person was on his side, facing away from him, so he didn't see much of his features but from what he could see, the person was young, probably only a couple years older than he, judging by the height. He was clearly a male and had light blond hair that was cut short right at the base of his neck. He groaned, pushing himself up.

"Ow...damn it. That son of a-" A blue-eyed gaze met green and the man trailed off his sentence. The man stared at him incredulously for a long moment, as if _he _was the strange one, before blinking once and continuing to stare. It made him feel...uncomfortable, to say at the least.

"Um...hi?" he said, hoping to break the awkward tension that had arisen.

That seemed to break the man out of his stupor, "_You!_" he exclaimed.

Great, they had trapped him in here with a looney bin.

"Uh..."

The man didn't seem to notice his wariness, "Y-you're _alive_?! Holy shit, kid!"

_Um...what do I say to _that_? _"Uh, yeah?" _Though I wasn't aware I was supposed to be dead..._

"Shit, kid!" The man repeated again, as if he hadn't even heard him speak, "You're-god, is _this _where they've been keeping you?! Guess I can't blame ol' Flasher for not finding you then."

_...Flasher?_

"Kid." He refocused on the man, realizing that he had inadvertently zoned out for a bit. The man stared at him expectantly, waiting for an answer to...whatever he had asked.

"Oh. Um, sorry. W-what did you say?"

To his surprise, the man didn't look angry, or even annoyed, just...concerned? "I asked how the SOBs got you. What, fall for the Trickster classic 'drop marbles on the floor' routine again?" The man smirked at that, as if he had just told some kind of inside joke that he was supposed to get, but confusion only made itself more prominent.

"Trickster? Dude, are you speaking in code or something? And what do you mean by _'they got me'_?" he asked.

The man paled, his gaze becoming slightly worried, "What, you don't remember Trickster?"

He blinked, "Am I supposed to?" he asked. _So this 'Trickster' is a person? Weird name._

"Well do you remember _me_?" the man asked. He gave him a deadpan look because wasn't it fairly obvious by now?

"Um, no. Have we met?"

**So. Guess you can figure out who X-7024 is, huh? Anyway, sorry for starting a story while I'm in the process of making another! That was a habit that I was trying to kick, but this idea just came to me and well, _I _thought it was pretty good. Plus, it would've bothered me if I didn't at least type it down. So, tell me what you think by leaving those reviews! And don't worry, much more of X-7024 and the plot in general will be revealed as the story progresses!**


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